


Remembering Lizzy

by Redilicious (Muizeke83)



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:38:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muizeke83/pseuds/Redilicious
Summary: When a certain 'demon' takes you...Dementia...





	Remembering Lizzy

I watch him rummage around the room, barefoot. In his hand he holds papers, old newspapers, pictures…

Sweat covers his brow, which is knit together and his breath is labored.

“Where is it? I can’t find it.” He’s becoming more agitated. His free hand is trembling.

I walk over and take it in mine, squeezing it ever so gently to get his attention. “What are you looking for, love?” I ask carefully, knowing what he is actually looking for.

“The folder, the one with… with… hers, her folder.” He can’t say her name, it hurts to much.

I pull him along with me to the desk at the far end of the room. On top of it, neatly in the middle, lies the manilla folder he is so desperately looking for. One name on the front: Elizabeth Keen.

He drops everything he’s holding and places his hands on either side of the folder, bending down to read the name. I can see him settling down just a little.

Very slowly he lowers himself into his chair and rests his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. I bend down to pick up the mess he has made and notice he’s jiggling with his feet. He’s still wound up.

I place the papers on the far corner of the desk and stand beside him, gently placing my hand on his shoulder.

He tenses and starts to rub his fingers along the side of his face. I squat down and take his hands into mine, turning him a little to make him look at me.

“Red, my love, I’m right here.” I try, but it’s like he’s looking right through me.

“No! You’re not her.” He shouts angrily and pulls his hands from mine. He opens the folder and pulls out a picture of her… of me and holds it up for me to look at.

“I know love, I understand.” He shows me the same picture every time. The picture taken the day I started at the Post Office. Young and fresh, green behind the ears. Long brown hair, shiny eyes and a beautiful smile. A picture taken almost 20 years ago…

Silver strands now show, along with the age related wrinkles around my now tired eyes. The beautiful smile not so present anymore lately. And I understand… he simply doesn’t see.

I don’t even see it myself sometimes. Time has taken its toll on me… on us.

Lately these episodes are becoming more frequent and each time he rejects me for…well me, he chips away a little more of who he is supposed to see in front of him.

It’s weighing down on us, but I love him so, so much, I simply endure it. I take his hand and hold it against my cheek, leaning into it a little.

“Look at me. Look into my eyes.” I calmly say to him, but the closes his eyes. He does his signature lip thing, the one he does when he’s struggling.

I place both my hands on his cheeks now, “Look at me, Red!” I order him and he reluctantly opens his eyes.

For several moments, neither one of us says anything. Then the twitching of his foot stops and the foggy look vanishes. He narrows his eyes a bit, then closes them a moment. He takes a shuddering breath and when he looks at me again with tear-filled eyes, I know he’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He says, barely a whisper and a tear spills over his cheek, over my hand. I smile up at him and he smiles back, weakly.

“I know.” I simply say and lean in to kiss his trembling lips.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He breathes against my lips.

“I love you too. And I will never forget that.” I promise him and he understands the meaning of that promise, like he always does…


End file.
